I wish I was a poet like you
twisting words in the butterflies, and
letting them fly off into the night that becomes the morning.
I wish i could make you understand.
I wish the language that I speak wasn't so inept at describing my feelings
To describe how I feel, I think I need to draw, but I'm not good at that either
My lines cross each other in awkward ways
and my curves are quite curvy enough
My colors are sloppy and bleed out of their boarders
So if i can’t say it, and I can’t draw it, then what can I do

I’m just a little boy trying to be a man
I got way to much on my mind and half the time I just don’t understand